Charita Goshay: 'Mayor McCrack' is Canada's gift that keeps on giving

Dear Canada: We're neighbors and good friends, and, as such, let's be honest: We Americans have always had this nagging sense that you're peering over your reading glasses and tsk-tsking as you gaze southward upon this plus-size land of Big Gulps, twerkers and hedge-fund pirates.

Dear Canada: We're neighbors and good friends, and, as such, let's be honest: We Americans have always had this nagging sense that you're peering over your reading glasses and tsk-tsking as you gaze southward upon this plus-size land of Big Gulps, twerkers and hedge-fund pirates.

As a country that has had universal health insurance for decades, you probably think we're loopy. Only Americans could turn passage of the Affordable Care Act into a daily re-enactment of the Siege at Carthage.

By now, you've probably deduced that we like to argue about everything under the sun — including the sun — and we like to shoot up stuff a lot, including each other. Our political process is now an endless brawl, but not so much that we'll actually vote. Needless to say, we couldn't identify your prime minister in a lineup.

You probably can't understand why, despite our proximity to you, we're not that gaga over hockey. It's OK. We don't understand why Canadian football needs 12 players and a 110-yard field. We suspect it might have something to do with the metric system, which we have no interest whatsoever in learning.

CLEAN AND SMART

You're cleaner than we are, Canada, and certainly more polite. Because you've never had weird hang-ups about immigrants and minorities, you've saved yourselves a world of hurt.

Your universities are just as good as ours, only a hell of a lot cheaper. Your business leaders know the difference between a casino and a bank.

You probably read books, too. As a result, you haven't tossed aside your British roots, only to try and recover them by building poopy-doo neighborhoods with blabbity-blah-sounding names like Foxknuckle, The Moors at Washboard or Mud Room Estates.

Canada, you aren't just a great place to visit; you seem like you'd be a great place to live.

And then.

For a year, Toronto Mayor Rob Ford disputed allegations that he smoked crack cocaine. But last week, Ford finally admitted that he did, but that he can't remember every detail because, at the time, he was lit like a tire fire, on booze.

Thank you, Canada, for this gift. It has been better than a year's supply of maple syrup, a much-needed distraction from the ACA, also known as FUBAR.

The reason your scandal is such a big deal to us is that Rob Ford singlehandedly has dismantled the myth that has long given you a cultural leg up. Imagine our surprise to discover, Canada, that some of you behave just like us.

NOT THE WORST?

Last week, a conservative TV pundit from Canada contended that Ford, who won't quit, is a good mayor who remains preferable to his predecessor, a liberal big spender. Needless to say, it was hard to hear her entire argument over the laughter. You know us. Rude.

Page 2 of 2 - Ford and his brother recently were given their own reality-TV show. If anything could make "Honey Boo Boo" look like "Downton Abbey," this could be it.

So be forewarned, ally to the north. From now on, every ugly-American insult hurled our way will forever after be countered with: "Oh yeah? Rob Ford."